


Winter Warmth

by Myx



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Episode: Molokai, Fandot Secret Santa, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 02:47:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13226541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myx/pseuds/Myx
Summary: “I’m so excited that we get to do Christmas all over again, Skip!” Arthur said, while practically leaping as MJN Air made their way through the golden doors of “Life’s a Beach Resort,” the resort hotel that Mr. Alyakhin, either playfully or not playfully, forcibly suggested that they stay in after they landed in Molokai.An interpretation of how the MJN Air gang celebrated Christmas (again) on the island of Molokai. Currently rated G, will eventually be an E. I promise. Tags will be added as the story progresses.





	Winter Warmth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gigi_reads](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigi_reads/gifts).



> I don't own anything.

“I’m so excited that we get to do Christmas _all_ over again, Skip!” Arthur said, while practically leaping as MJN Air made their way through the golden doors of “Life’s a Beach Resort,” the resort hotel that Mr. Alyakhin, either playfully or not playfully, forcibly suggested that they stay in after they landed in Molokai.

“Well, Arthur, how about we sleep first and _then_ we can celebrate Christmas _again_ , okay?” Douglas said, yawning as Carolyn checked into the hotel.

“Here you are, you lot.” Carolyn began, as she walked back to the group, keys in hand. “Mr. Alyakhin, bless his Russian, massive yacht loving heart, booked us four hotel rooms, so we don't have to share. It is a Christmas miracle.” Carolyn passed out the keys to Arthur, Martin, and Douglas, before taking one for herself.

“Goodness; it _is_ a Christmas miracle, isn’t it?” Douglas said, voice dripping (as per usual) with sarcasm.

“Right, so let us slumber and then we can do Christmas later in the day. I’ve booked reservations at a pub later this evening on the resort that the lady at the front desk said does good sushi.”

“Sushi? _Sushi?!_ They have sushi?” Douglas asked, his face in shock.

Carolyn smirked, “Well, Moloaki _is_ an island, Douglas. They have fish, saltwater fish yes, but fish nonetheless, so, it doesn’t take much brain power to add one to one.”

Douglas ignored Carolyn's quip, but smiled as he walked to his room. 

Martin about fell over when he opened the door to his hotel room. As he walked in, he noticed that the walls were painted a beautiful cerealan blue with pictures of ships artistically arranged on them. A four poster bed dominated the room, but there was a small, cozy sitting area in one corner, and a patio that overlooked the private beach. Martin opened up the door to the loo and gasped softly when he saw the huge bathtub that had five ( _Five?!)_ jets. He broke into a grin, dropped his flight bag at the foot of the four poster bed, changed into his pyjamas, and fell into the best sleep of his life.

* * *

Martin’s eyes snapped open and they immediately went to the door. The same door, in fact, that was currently being pounded on in a way that could only belong to one person in the world.

 _Arthur_. Martin thought, before smiling at the slightly vibrating door as Arthur pounded on it yet again.

Martin rolled out of bed and answered the door where he was greeted by a warm, glowing smile from Arthur before Arthur enveloped him in a bear hug.

“Hiya, Skip!” Arthur said, as he broke the hug.

“Hi, Arthur. That pounding you were doing on the door was different than your usual pounding on the door pounding; what was it?”

“Well, it was the opening measure to my song, Skip!”

“Your. Song?” Martin asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Yeah, the _Get Dressed You Merry Gentlemen_ song, song.”

“How could I forget? What time is it anyway, Arthur? I turned my mobile off and unplugged the clock.”

“Oh, it's about noon, Skip.”

“Right. So…”

“So, what, Skip?”

“Why are you here, Arthur? We’re not meeting for a few more hours at that pub on the resort.”

Arthur looked at him and their eyes locked, Arthur’s hazel eyes meeting Martin’s blue-green eyes. He fidgeted for a moment, _and hold on, was he, blushing?!_ , before saying in a small voice, “I just wanted to thank-you, Skip. Can we go inside? I would really like us to continue this conversation not in your doorway of your hotel room, Skip.”

Martin wasn’t sure what was going on; Arthur was almost never self-conscious . He was Arthur. He was the same man who was a beacon of light in the darkness, the same man who currently looked like he was a small child who had just had a bad dream. He looked scared, frightened, concerned. Martin heard himself say, “Sure, come on in. How about we sit in that little sitting area in the corner, Arthur,” as he tried to process what Arthur was doing here and why on Earth this couldn’t wait until later when everyone was going to meet up and do Christmas while enjoying Christmas dinner.

After they had both sat down, Arthur folded and unfolded his hands half a dozen times, then cleared his throat, and said, “Again, I just wanted to say thank-you, Skip.”

“For what, Arthur?”

Arthur looked away from his hands, and looked up at Martin again. “For the flight deck Christmas, Skip.”

Martin felt a warming sensation starting to grow in his belly. “It was nothing, Arthur. I-I, er, Douglas and I just felt bad that you weren’t able to do your Christmas in Tokyo, so I, er, we wanted to do something for you.”

Arthur unfolded his hands (as he had started folding and unfolding them while Martin was talking), and reached his left hand out to meet Martin’s left hand. Martin looked down at their now joined hands, and then back up at Arthur, and then back down at their joined hands. “I know, Skip. It was honestly the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me, ever, Skip. It was so creative how you came up with ideas for my stocking, and for everything.”

Martin felt the warming sensation growing even more in his belly. Arthur’s hand was warm, soft, and solid against his own. He never really noticed Arthur’s hands before, but they were quite unique. They were clumsy looking, and block-ish, but had power behind them. Power that, for whatever reason, Martin wanted to know more about. Wanted to experience, wanted to feel, wanted to taste-

Martin’s musing about Arthur’s hands were halted by Arthur continuing,“But, Skip, I couldn’t wait until this evening to tell you this because I know,” He paused to collect his thoughts, “I know how much Douglas didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to put on a flight deck Christmas because I’m, well, almost 30 and I’m a child.”

“Arthur, I,” Martin croaked “I don’t know what to even say. I mean, I just felt like I had to. In some respects, it reminded me of what my Mum did for Simon, Caitlin, and I when we were little kids. Oh, I mean, not that I think you’re my kid, or-or-or anything like that. I mean, I know I _am_ older than you, but not by much, and, uh-”

“Shhh, Skip. Stop talking.” Arthur said, eyes shining at Martin. Martin noted that he, thankfully, no longer looked like he was scared, frightened, or concerned. He looked more like, well, _Arthur._  

“Right.” Martin gave a small cough. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I just got a bit carried away; I always forget to stop talking, sometimes. It-it sounded a lot better in my head. Not that I think of you in that way, or anything like that.”

“Think of you in what way, Skip?” Arthur asked with a concerned look on his face.

“Like you’re a little kid.”

“Of course I don’t think you think of me like that, Skip. You’re not Douglas. You’re Skip.”

“Oh! Oh, good. Its just that-”

“You were worried?” Arthur asked with an almost Carolyn-like smirk.

Martin laughed. “Yeah. Not that I’m ever worried or anything like that.”

“Of course not, Skip.” Arthur smiled at him.

“So...was there anything else, Arthur?”

Arthur stood up and starting walking towards the door. “No, that’s it. I just hope you like my gift that I got you. You know, the one that I mentioned that was in the hold.” He paused, pivoted, and continued, “By the way, I’m sorry that I sounded like I was whining when I said that while we were on the plane, Skip.”

“I don’t think you sounded like that, Arthur. I mean, it was a perfectly normal reaction to have in that situation….” Martin internally (and, he prayed, not externally) winced at the latter comment.

“Oh good, Skip.” Arthur pivoted again and continued walking to the door. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Skip.” Arthur closed the door with a wink. And a wink that, unlike previous times that had involved both eyes, only involved one eye this time.

Martin sat bewildered on the chair, unsure of what to think.


End file.
